


A Pack of Misfits

by Leela



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Teen Wolf (TV), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Alpha/Beta, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, M/M, Minor Character Death, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:43:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A call for help from Stiles sends Tommy and Adam racing to Beacon Hills to help figure out what's going wrong in the Hale pack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pack of Misfits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohhazardous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohhazardous/gifts), [moodwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [[ART] A Pack of Misfits](https://archiveofourown.org/works/744295) by [ohhazardous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohhazardous/pseuds/ohhazardous). 



> I wasn't going to do a second story for the [Glam Reverse Big Bang](http://glam-reverse-bb.livejournal.com/), but then I got a chance to write a Teen Wolf crossover for thememoryslides's art and I couldn't resist. Her prompt just inspired me, and I came up with this story.
> 
> The art... seriously, she made me believe that Adam and Tommy could fit into Derek and Stiles's world. But even if you don't know Teen Wolf, check out her banner and the arty things that became scene dividers, and leave her some love.
> 
>  **Link to art master post:** <http://archiveofourown.org/works/744295>
> 
> Many thanks also to @thraceadams and @aislinntlc for their feedback and encouragement. And always to batdina, who put up with me disappearing into yet another story.

Tommy was jamming to Freddie King when his phone buzzed, announcing a text from someone who wasn't Adam. He ignored it and turned the music up a bit higher. 

His phone buzzed and buzzed and buzzed again, until he was about ready to tear open his jeans to get rid of it. Putting it on vibrate in case Adam called had clearly been a stupid fucking idea. 

Another buzz and he'd had it. He put his guitar aside, laying it on the floor beside him, muted Freddie, slid his headphones down around his neck, and struggled and wriggled around until he'd got his phone out. 

Fucking Stiles, man. Didn't know how to take no for answer. 

Without bothering to read the texts, Tommy called Stiles back. "What part of 'I'm not answering, so leave me the fuck alone' don't you get?"

"Tommy, dude, seriously, you know you don't mean that." 

"Is someone dead?"

"No, but—"

"Has Hale bitten anyone's head off lately?"

"Nope, but you—"

"Is anyone in the pack likely to die any time soon?"

"No, but that's not why—"

"Hanging up now," Tommy said. "Going back to Freddie and my git. Do not call me, text me, DM me, email me, or whatever the fuck else you think you might want to do to contact me for at least another couple of hours."

"It's Peter," Stiles blurted out.

"Fuck."

"I wish." Stiles sighed so hard that it blasted static into Tommy's ear. "Derek's so totally turned around right now that he's thinking about doing what Peter wants."

"Shit." Giving up on the idea of getting any more practice in any time soon, Tommy slid his guitar out of the way. Then he jammed his phone between his shoulder and ear, and shifted backwards to rest against the side of the armchair behind him. "All right, you've got my attention. So spill."

"Seriously, Tommy, Peter's on some kind of power trip. He's got Derek believing that the only good pack is one that's made up of family. _Born werewolf blood family_. Like not us. Not a single one of us except Peter. Like trying to kick my ass out of Derek's life, and get Derek's dick into a girl wolf. A born girl wolf that Peter's chosen through some kind of weird-ass matchmaking thing. How am I supposed to fight that? I can't give Derek a baby. I'm not even a werewolf. I'm just a stupid human."

"Whoa! Slow down." Tommy held up a hand, even though he knew Stiles couldn't see it. He waited a couple of beats, and when Stiles didn't start talking again, he said, "First of all, there's nothing wrong with being human, and second of all, what the actual fuck is Peter even trying?" 

"He wants a Hale pack made up of Hales." The almost inaudible crack in Stiles's voice made Tommy want to hug him. "Born Hales."

"Well, fuck him. If Peter wants that so badly, he can peddle his own ass to a wolf chick."

Stiles's laugh was too watery to be real. He sniffed and said, "I don't know how to fix this. Maybe I should just let Mary have Derek—" 

"Oh fuck that noise," Tommy snapped. "You know what, if that wolf of yours thinks family knows everything, tell him to invite his cousin Adam for a visit. It sounds like you need another alpha in the mix, one with his own pack of misfits."

"If you're sure..." 

"Asshole, don't pull that shit on me. You need to study up on manipulation some more. Learn from a master." 

"I'm trying," Stiles said. "Seriously trying here, man."

Tommy couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Yeah yeah," he said. "Now tell me what else has been going on in that podunk town of yours."

While Stiles babbled on about lacrosse and the last weird monster they'd destroyed, Tommy snagged his iPad off the table and checked Adam's schedule. Somehow they had to find time for this trip.

"No," Derek said, keeping his focus on the burned-out house in front of him and refusing to give his uncle Peter the satisfaction of turning around. "How many times do I have to answer the same question?"

"As many times as it takes for me to change your mind."

"No."

"Stiles agrees with me."

"No. Stiles does not."

"Believe that if you wish," Peter said. 

A robin flew across the clearing in front of their old house, dipping down right in front of Derek to peck at something on the ground, only to squawk and take off again when Peter stepped on a twig.

"Have you forgotten everything your parents and I taught you?"

"No." Derek gritted his teeth against the rage that clawed through him at the reminder of everything he'd lost and had never been able to replace, no matter how hard he'd tried. He could feel his eyes flash red, but he managed to control his body's urge to shift. 

"A pack makes a werewolf stronger," Peter said. "Just as every werewolf in a pack strengthens the pack. And the alpha, Derek? Do you remember what gives an alpha the most strength?"

"Yes," Derek hissed. The sharp points of his claws dug into his palms. "Family."

"Then why are you fighting me? Do you want the Hale pack to be weak? Don't you care if the next creature, the next family of hunters, or the next alpha destroys us? Tears your sweet little human apart, ripping out the center of our pack, because he refuses to become one of us? Because he can't defend himself."

"That won't happen."

"Of course, it won't." Peter's voice was syrup-sweet, soft and reasonable. "You and that would-be omega, Scott, will always be there to protect him." 

His patience finally snapped, Derek swung around but Peter was gone. Alone with his frustration and his fear, with his memories, Derek raised his face to the sky and howled.

Beacon Hills looked like a small town out of one of the TV shows Tommy's sister watched incessantly. It was full of people who looked too ordinary to be real, the kind who always turned out to be psycho serial killers or creepy monsters. Tommy shivered and sat up in his seat. He wasn't going to be fucking scared off by normals.

"Who actually wants to live in a place like this?" Neil leaned forward from the back seat and breathed in Tommy's ear yet again.

"Ugh." Tommy rubbed at his ear. Honestly, he'd never understood how annoying a baby brother could be until he'd gained one by proxy in Neil Lambert. It was almost enough to make Tommy want to apologize to his own sister. Almost, because that would mean admitting that he'd been a little shit, and he wasn't about to do that in this lifetime. Instead, he reached back and batted Neil upside the head. "Down, boy."

Neil growled at him and smacked back. Tommy ducked Neil's hand and stuck his tongue out at him.

"Oh, for god's sake, we're almost there," Adam said without taking his eyes off the road. "Can't you guys behave for five more minutes? And, seriously, Tommy, I need directions. I haven't a clue where I'm going right now."

Glancing down at his iPhone and then back up at the oncoming light, Tommy winced in anticipation of Adam's reaction to his, "Left! Here!"

To Tommy's complete and utter surprise, as soon as Adam hit the left turn signal, the pickup truck in the lane next to them slowed down to let them in and they made it into the turn lane without any problems. Even Ashley, who was driving the other car, made it over in plenty of time. 

"Well, fuck," Tommy said, staring at the driver of the pickup, who waved as he drove past. "I don't think we're in Oz anymore, Toto."

Adam snickered and reached over to squeeze Tommy's knee. "We haven't been in Oz for the last few hundred miles, but I'm sure we can make magic happen here too." 

"Why am I in this car with you guys?" Neil groaned dramatically. "What did I ever do to deserve such punishment?"

"You pissed off Ashley, remember? Trying to take her keys away so you could drive her car? Something about making sure we all got here safely?" Another glance at the directions on his phone, and Tommy added, "Next right and then it's the house at the end of the road."

After giving the back of Tommy's seat a pretty ineffective kick, Neil settled down, still grumbling under his breath. Tommy just tuned him out and watched the house they'd rented get closer. At first, all he could see was a chimney, then a bit of the roof, peeking out from behind a front yard filled with huge old trees. 

The house disappeared, and all Tommy could see was trees and scrubby grass, as Adam slowed down to turn into the driveway. The music flipped from some of Adam's pop shit to some kind of weird world music that Neil had insisted on adding to the travel playlist. 

Somehow it fit. The winding music drawn from pipes and strings and hand-drums felt perfect for the dim, green-scented hush of the trees. Then they pulled out into sunlight and Tommy blinked, nearly blinded despite his sunglasses.

Stiles was sitting in the middle of the steps that led up to the porch and the front door. He wore almost as many layers as Tommy himself. Stiles stood up as soon as Adam stopped the car and bounced down toward the car, the tails of his bright plaid shirt flapping behind him. 

As soon as Tommy was up and out, he was being hugged by Stiles. "Thank you," Stiles whispered before going back to stand next to Derek Hale. Peter was on Derek's other side, and the rest of Derek's pack behind him. Tommy recognized everyone but the sweet-faced, dark-haired woman who tried to squeeze in between Derek and Stiles only to be yanked back into line by Lydia. Mary, Tommy assumed, the woman Peter was trying push on Derek.

Tommy moved to Adam's right, just as Neil took up his place on Adam's left and Ashley, Terrance, and Brian stood behind them. Anticipation and silence weighed heavily between them for a few long seconds, and then Derek took a step toward them.

His arms folded over his chest, Derek said, "Lambert."

"Hale," Adam responded, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, and took a single step towards Derek. 

They were almost the same height, but Adam looked slender, almost tiny, so close to Derek's bulk. For a minute, Tommy worried that he'd done the right thing, bringing them back together. But what the fuck else could he have done? If Derek needed family so fucking badly, Adam was pretty much it. Well, except for Derek's douchebag uncle, Peter, who really didn't count.

Tommy brought his right hand up to his mouth and bit at his thumbnail before remembering that he wasn't supposed to do that. So he put his hands behind his back and picked at his nail polish where only his pack could see him do it.

Adam and Derek continued staring each other down, standing a few feet apart. It went on and on, until Tommy was ready to knock their heads together and tell them to get over themselves. But he didn't, because this was some stupid fucking alpha werewolf pissing contest that he was never going to get... ever. Giving Peter Hale a glare just because, he curled his hands loosely into fists, bit his lip to remind himself to keep his mouth shut, and waited. 

And waited. And fucking waited some more. 

Stiles started twitching first, but he turned it into a dash of his hand around the back of his head and then resolutely stuffed his hands into his front pockets. Someone standing behind Tommy scuffed their feet on the driveway. Tommy flexed his hands, rubbing them against his jeans, and gave Peter another glare for good measure, because this was all his fucking fault. Peter, damn him, didn't look the least bit cowed by it.

Finally, when Tommy had moved on to wondering whether he'd remembered to pack his crossbow and the lovely silver-tipped arrows made from mountain ash, Derek's frown relaxed minutely, and he and Adam clasped forearms for a second before Adam tugged Derek into a hug. Derek, of course, resisted and barely even relaxed into Adam's embrace.

Fucking alphas, really. As if a bit of guy on guy affection was going to make them look less manly or alphaly or whatever the fuck they were.

After that, everyone looosened up. Tommy pushed forward past Peter and grabbed Stiles into a big hug. "All right?"

"I guess." Stiles clung for a moment. "Mary's here, Tommy, and no one will let me dose her with wolfsbane or anything."

"Party poopers," Tommy said, and tousled Stiles's hair. "Like the longer style, dude. Gives your man something to hold on to." 

To Tommy's immense satisfaction, Stiles blushed bright red and Derek came over to place a hand on Stiles's shoulder and scowl at Tommy.

"Hey," Tommy said, grinning at Derek. "Long time no see. How's the monster killing business going for you? Heard you kicked butt again a few weeks back."

"We won and they lost. Our pack was strong enough." One side of Derek's mouth tilted up in a slight curve for a second. Then his eyes darkened, and his grip on Stiles's shoulder tightened. "This time."

"And the time before that and all the other times as well." Stiles bounced on his toes and beamed. "We rock."

Something softened in Derek's eyes. "Come on," he said to Stiles. "Adam wants time to settle in before our packs meet for dinner."

"Dinner's good." Stiles gave Tommy another brief hug before following Derek over to his car. Peter and Mary got in the backseat.

Tommy paused at the top of the steps and watched Derek and his pack drive away. 

"Everything okay?"

"Dunno." Tommy leaned back against Adam's chest. "If this doesn't work, I wanna bring Stiles back home with us. He can go to UCLA or something. It's gotta be better than the online college thing he's doing so he can stay with Derek and the Hale pack." 

"I'm not challenging Derek over him. He may be an idiot, but neither of us has enough family left to want to lose each other."

 _Over a human,_ Tommy's brain filled in. Anger rose up inside him and died just as quickly. No way he was going to let Peter drive a wedge between Adam and him. No fucking way. "You won't have to. If Peter has his fucking way, Derek won't want Stiles around. Asshole."

Adam considered him for a few seconds, then laced their fingers together. "All right," he said. "Come on. Time to rescue Neil from Ashley's insistence that girls don't do kitchens."

With one last glance at the empty driveway, Tommy let Adam lead him into the house.

For the first time, Derek found himself wishing that his loft had more furniture in it. No one in his pack had ever complained about the lack of seating — well, except Peter, but he didn't count because he bitched about everything Derek did. Which was why he hadn't been invited tonight. Maybe he should have been though.

Hell, maybe Derek should have dressed up like Lydia had, pulled out something fancier than a plain black t-shirt and black jeans. 

"Stop it." Stiles jumped up the last few stairs and came to lean on the railing next to Derek. He was wearing a brand-new shirt; Derek could detect a faint odor of packaging and the ubiquitous _store_ smell underneath Stiles's familiar scent.

"Yo!" Stiles waved a hand in Derek's face. "Adam isn't going to care that you don't have designer couches, or some kind of swanky kitchen full of stainless steel gadgetry, or whatever you're fretting over this time."

"I'm not fretting."

"Yeah, you are." Stiles turned his head and grinned up at Derek before returning his gaze to the main level of the loft below them, where Lydia was ordering Boyd and Isaac around and getting the dinner organized. "I can't believe Lydia came back for this. Then again, it is Adam Lambert. Not that she ever had posters on her wall or anything so ridiculously high school, even when she was in high school, but she owns every CD and I caught her watching his concert videos a bunch of times." Stiles paused, and Derek could hear the frown in his voice. "I think she had a thing for Tommy as well as Adam. One time she was watching YouTube... you don't think she'd say anything, do you? That would be so embarrassing."

"She won't say anything." Then, because it amused him, Derek added, "Although she does have a video camera in her bag."

Stiles spun around to gape at Derek, looking almost horror-struck. "Oh my god, she wouldn't do that. Would she? No, she wouldn't. Lydia would never..." he trailed off. His head turned slowly to stare down at Lydia. "That would be way more embarrassing than the time Scott and I got caught in the—" Stiles's face flushed red and he broke off. "Nope, not talking about that. Not ever again. Nope."

"Of course, she wouldn't," Derek said, keeping his voice completely flat to freak Stiles out even more. 

Before Stiles could respond, someone knocked on the front door. Everyone paused and looked up at Derek. Then Lydia said very sweetly, "Oh, don't bother yourselves. I'll take care of this too."

Derek was halfway down the spiral staircase when she flung the door open and said, "Hi! Welcome to the Hale pack house."

"Hi." Adam smiled at her. To Derek's relief, Adam was dressed just as casually as Derek was, although his jeans were clearly designer and the pattern on his t-shirt probably had some deep meaning that completely escaped Derek.

They stood there for several seconds, Lydia standing in the doorway, Adam's smile fading into uncertainty when she didn't step aside to let him in. 

Quirking a lopsided smile, Derek leaped over the banister and landed on the floor with a thud that made Lydia jump. She recovered quickly though, fluffing her hair and moving out of Adam's way as she said, "Please excuse our alpha's manners. He's got this awful sob story of a life and somehow that seems to excuse all sorts of rude behavior."

A low growl came from behind Adam. Derek's hackles rose. Snarling, lips peeled back to display teeth that had extended into fangs, he pushed himself between Lydia and Adam's pack.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Tommy said, shaking his head. "Brian, stop being so defensive. She was just being an ass, not dissing everyone who's grown up the hard way. And Derek, put that damn wolfy testosterone away already. I'm sure Lydia's more than capable of defending herself." 

Derek blinked at Tommy — one of those people Peter had described as a defenseless human — as Tommy pushed past him.

"Come on." Tommy leaned a black case against the wall just inside the door. Then he looped his arm in Lydia's and drew her back into the loft, ignoring the odd squeaking noise that she made. "Might as well get comfortable while we watch the wolves play their games."

"God, I love him," Adam said, too quietly for any of the humans in the room to hear. Then, louder, he asked Derek, "May my pack and I enter your home?"

"Why even bother being polite when your mate just wanders in without saying hello? Seems like pack rules've already been broken," Isaac muttered. 

"Oops?" Tommy grinned. "I never was very good at obeying the rules. Just ask the nuns." 

"Sounds familiar," Derek said, giving Stiles a meaningful look. Stiles flipped him off, and everyone started laughing, breaking the tension.

While the pack members said hello, Derek moved to the back of the room, out of the way. This wasn't a place for an alpha. It was the time for pack to meet pack, beta to meet beta, even human to meet human. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the edge of his desk.

Adam stepped around Lydia, who was talking urgently to Tommy about some concert or other, and came over to join him. Adam jumped up on the desk, his feet dangling just above the floor. Derek glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, but Adam didn't say anything. He focused on their pack members, seeming to be genuinely interested in what was happening. 

Their packs were intermingling. Lydia was sitting on the couch, half-curled into Tommy, with Stiles on the floor in front of them and Neil leaning on the back of the couch between them. Boyd and Isaac were dishing up dinner plates, with Terrance and Brian helping and Ashley perched on the counter, overseeing them. Nothing that any of them were saying was important or was anything more than them getting to know each other. 

Nothing they said gave Derek the slightest idea of what was going on. Eventually, unable to resist any longer, Derek lowered his voice so that no one but Adam could hear, not even the other werewolves in the room, and asked, "Why did you want me to invite you to visit?"

Adam's intake of breath was audible, and Derek could feel the change in the room, the way all the members of Adam's pack tensed for a moment before relaxing again. It was the kind of closeness Derek remembered from his family, and his chest ached with loss. Why couldn't he have that?

"I came because Stiles talked to Tommy, and Tommy told Stiles to get you to invite me."

"Why would he..." Derek trailed off as Ashley approached them. She had a plate in each hand.

"Here you go," Ashley said, handing one plate to Adam. "Dinner with lots of greens."

"Thanks." Adam's smile was excessive as far as Derek was concerned, but Ashley didn't seem to think so, not given how brightly she smiled back.

"Alpha," Ashley said, bowing her head slightly as she held the other plate out to him. 

Derek just stared at her. He could vaguely remember his aunt Alyona doing the same thing for a visiting alpha when he was very young. He hadn't known, hadn't expected anyone to ever do it for him. He wracked his brain, trying to remember how he was supposed to respond, but came up blank. Eventually, he just decided fuck it. His dad and Peter had argued over it, which is why Peter's wife had ended up doing it instead of his mom. 

"It's Derek," he said, taking the plate, "and we're pack. We don't stand on ceremony."

"Yes!" Stiles pumped a fist into the air, and then looked around at everyone else and flushed lightly. "Well, we are, right? Pack? All of us."

"Are we now?" Peter stood in the open door. "There's more to being pack than simply announcing its existence."

"That's what my daddy always taught me." Closing the door behind her, Mary Sheldon came to stand next to Peter. Her dark hair was caught up in some fancy hairstyle that made her green eyes seem almost feline. 

Derek had to resist the urge to growl at her. Peter's arguments about pack and family made sense, but this woman? He hadn't a clue why Peter thought he'd be interested in someone like her. Honestly, if he wanted a female mate, he'd prefer someone with a little more backbone than she had. Someone who could stand on her own and kick monster ass.

"Dinner's on the counter." Ashley walked over to the couch and sank down gracefully to sit cross-legged on the floor at Tommy's feet. "Help yourselves." 

"What? No service for us mere betas?" Peter shed his leather coat and hung it on one of the pegs next to the door.

"No," Derek said, cutting across everyone who tried to respond. "And there'll be no service for alphas either. Not in my pack."

"As my alpha commands," Peter said, sweeping a mocking bow.

"I see he hasn't changed much at all," Adam murmured.

"I heard that," Peter sang out from over by the counter.

"He's improved actually," Derek said. "You should have seen him before the resurrection."

"Oh no," Stiles interrupted, waving a fork laden with roast chicken. "You're not spoiling my appetite tonight. We promised we were never going there again. So let's not, okay?"

"Okay." Derek hitched himself up on the desk and examined the food Ashley had brought him. None of that weird green leafy crap that Adam liked so much, thank god. He stabbed a potato with his fork. 

"Well, then," Isaac said. "How about those Cyclones? The team's totally sucking now that we're all out of school."

"Coach was hysterical at the last game," Boyd put in. "I thought he was going to tear out the last of his hair, watching one of his own players accidentally make a goal against the Cyclones." 

"Lacrosse?" Adam whispered to Derek, as the conversation got more heated. "I vaguely remember Dad showing me pictures of you in some uniform when we were kids. Was that lacrosse?"

"It's a big deal in this town. The biggest probably." Adam made a face, and Derek smirked at him. "Not your thing, huh?"

Whatever Adam was going to say in response was lost in a commotion from the rest of the room. Peter had a satisfied look on his face, Tommy appeared horrified, Ashley was shaking her head, and the others were laughing. Adam tensed beside Derek, his scent changing, becoming protective, and Derek began to pay attention. 

"Seriously. I've got that stick mounted on my wall at home, notch, torn strings and everything," Stiles said, getting up into a crouch, wobbling a little as he got his hands into stick handling position. "It was the best ever. All the werewolves on our team, and I got to score the goal. They had an extra man offense and I was right there, in the perfect position."

"Where's Scott when we need him." Isaac snickered. "You know that wasn't how it went."

"It was too how it went," Stiles said, bouncing an imaginary stick on Isaac's head.

Everyone got involved at that point, arguing with Stiles and each other. Adam's pack exchanged glances but stayed out of it. And Peter looked far too happy to put in the occasional dig against Stiles.

"Noooo..." Tommy whined. Putting his plate down on the floor, he clambered off the couch and came over to lay his head against Adam's chest. "Adam, they're talking sports. Make them stop."

Giving Tommy an indulgent smile, Adam ran a hand through Tommy's hair making it even messier. "You could distract them."

Derek was about to roll his eyes and say something sarcastic, when Tommy peeked up at him through his bangs. He looked so mischievous that Derek was suddenly absolutely certain that Tommy was doing this on purpose and that Adam knew it. They seemed so different from his own pack, and yet not really, Derek thought, as his gaze wandered over to Stiles.

"I brought my guitar," Tommy said, breaking Derek's train of thought.

"Yes," Lydia squealed, clapping her hands. When everyone turned to look at her, she calmed immediately, putting on a haughty look and flipping her hair back off her face. "What?"

"Go get it." Adam slapped Tommy's flat ass as he walked away, and then said, "I think that's a not very subtle hint," before following after him.

At Lydia's direction, Boyd gave up one of the armchairs to Adam. Tommy sat cross-legged on the floor at Adam's feet, an acoustic guitar resting on his thighs. Brian and Terrance moved the coffee table out of the way, and Ashley and Isaac cleared away the remaining dinner dishes.

Feeling left out and oddly not part of this, Derek resisted the urge to go join them and stayed where he was. No one invited him either. They were focused on getting things set up for Adam and Tommy. He finished eating what was left on his plate and put it on the desk next to him.

"I could take that," Mary said. She was hovering awkwardly in front of him.

"It's fine. I might want more later."

"Oh, I could—" She gestured at the food still laid out on the counter. 

"Maybe later."

"Okay." 

Instead of leaving, as Derek was half-wishing she would, Mary hopped up onto the desk next to him. Derek ignored her and listened to Adam and Tommy. He vaguely recognized the song from the last CD Adam had sent him. 

"They're good," Mary said. "I didn't know he could sing like that. Pop's not really my thing."

Derek grunted but didn't reply, keeping his eyes on Adam. He wished he could figure out what Peter really wanted, and why this woman was willing to play along with whatever it was. She wasn't what he'd expected when Peter had said he'd found a female werewolf for him. She didn't call to him as mate, but she interested him, and his wolf, anyway. 

Her hair was soft, almost the same color as Derek's mom's had been, and she smelled safe and familiar. So he didn't object when she moved closer. He just kept listening to Adam, Ashley, and Brian sing, and to Tommy play, and watching the smile on Stiles's face, wondering when he'd lost the ability to put it there.

The buzzing of a phone against the wood of the bedside table dragged Tommy up out of sleep. "Make it stop," he mumbled and poked his fingers into Adam's side.

"Mnf," was Adam's only response.

Sticking one hand up out of the covers, Tommy reached behind him and flailed until he snagged the annoying phone. He swiped blindly at the screen and mumbled, "Fuck off," in its general direction then clicked the button to shut it off. 

Mostly asleep, he snuggled back into Adam and closed his eyes, drifting back into sleep.

The phone vibrated again. In his hand. Against his chest and Adam's side.

"Hate you." Adam shoved him away and flopped over onto his stomach.

Tommy flicked on the phone, told the asshole to fuck off again, and slid over until he was snuggled back up against Adam's warmth.

He was almost asleep again when the bedroom door opened and someone flopped onto their bed. 

Adam flung himself half-upright, pushing Tommy behind him, snarling and swiping out with clawed fingers. 

His heart pounding, Tommy yelled, "What the fuck?" 

Stiles fell off the bed, shouting, "Oh my god, don't do that."

No one else appeared at the door, which meant the assholes knew what they'd done. Tommy was going to fucking kill them... when he'd woken up... and drunk some of that tea Adam had gotten him hooked on. 

He plastered himself to Adam's back, flexing his muscles just enough to let Adam know not to jump off the bed. "It's Stiles," he said and pressed a kiss to Adam's shoulder. "Don't hurt him."

A growl rumbled through Adam's chest, and sharp-tipped claws dug into Tommy's forearm as Adam held on to him. He shuddered in Tommy's arms and the claws blunted and became fingernails. 

"Holy shit." Stiles peered up over the edge of the bed, his eyes wide. "That was not what I was expecting. Neil told me to just go on in, because you'd be up by now. Why the hell would Neil—"

Adam growled again, Stiles ducked down with an "Eep," and Tommy smacked Adam's back.

"Stop that. Go and take it out on your asshole brother while you're making us some of that tea shit you like so much."

"Coffee," Adam muttered. "Need coffee today." But he dragged himself out of Tommy's arms, slid out of bed, and stalked off to the bathroom, drawing another "Eep" out of Stiles.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Tommy rolled his eyes. "Put some damn clothes on before you ruin whatever innocence Stiles has left."

Pushing the pillows into a heap behind him, he slumped back onto them and tugged up the covers before turning to Stiles. "Although how you can possibly be embarrassed about a little skin after living in the lap of werewolves for years is beyond me."

"Not my werewolf." Stiles crawled up onto the bed and sat down, his back resolutely to the bathroom door and Adam. "You know it's almost ten o'clock, right? Most normal people have been up for hours."

"Ten o'clock?" Tommy grabbed the phone off the bed and peered at it. "Motherfucker. It's barely even morning. Why would you want to even be awake this fucking early?"

"He's not a musician," Adam said, coming out of the bathroom and heading for the closet. "He's one of those normal people, remember?"

"Ugh." Tommy flung a hand over his eyes. "Go away and get me something caffeinated."

"Yes, baby." There was a pause before Adam said, "Opening the blinds now."

"I hate you." 

"I know."

Stiles chuckled, and the room was suddenly flooded with sunlight. 

"I fucking hate you hard."

"Yup." 

Tommy fought Adam's attempt to pry his arm off his eyes, but eventually he found himself squinting at Adam's blurred shadow against the bright light from the window. 

"There'll be coffee downstairs when you're ready," Adam said, scratching his bare chest as he walked towards the door. A pair of grey sweatpants hung precariously off his hips.

As if the closing of the door was a signal, Stiles scrambled to the top of the bed and flopped down next to Tommy. "He slept with her."

Tommy blinked. "What? He fucked her? Without saying anything to you? I'll kill him."

"Oh god no," Stiles said, looking horrified. "He _slept_ slept with her. After you guys left, the pack kind of pulled the cushions down onto the floor and piled in. We do that sometimes when Derek's been an ass, and they want to bring him back to them. Doesn't help that Erica and Scott are off at college and haven't been back for months. And then with Peter trying to bring Mary into the pack... well, everyone just piled around him."

"Been there, done that." Tommy smiled, remembering the last time, when he'd been shivering with cold in Russia and everyone had wanted to warm him up. "It's cool."

"Not when I wake up next to Derek and he's fucking spooning that bitch."

Stiles's language shocked Tommy into raising his eyebrows. He reached over and tugged Stiles into a hug. "What did you do?"

"I left."

"You... left?" Tommy knuckled the top of Stiles's head. "Idiot."

"I know, but they looked so comfortable and like they fit together, and Peter was all smirky at me. What else was I supposed to do? I'm going to lose him." 

"If you keep this shit up, you so fucking are."

"I don't want to. I like him. I never get anyone I want... not Lydia... not anyone. I'm not a bad guy, not a complete asshole. Why can't I have nice things too?"

"Are you willing to fight for him?"

Stiles pulled away just far enough to look at Tommy. His face was blotchy, and his eyes were red-rimmed. It wasn't enough, Tommy thought. He needed to be angry too. 

Finally, when Stiles remained silent, Tommy said, "If you want the nice things, if you want Derek, I'll help you. But you have to fucking fight for him."

"How can I..." Stiles took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "All right. Yes. Yes, I'll fight. But I damn well better win, that's all I'm saying, because I'm not being pushed out of my town, out of my pack, by anyone. Not even Peter fucking Hale."

"That's my boy," Tommy said, giving him a high-five. "Now get the fuck out of here so I can get dressed."

"What happened to not being embarrassed and living in the lap of werewolves?" Stiles's lips twisted into a smirk. 

Tommy flipped him off with both hands and then reached for the covers. "Fine," he said, "if you feel that way..."

Stiles was gone from the room before Tommy had thrown the covers off.

"You like her," Peter said. "I saw you this morning. Curled around her as if you were protecting her from the rest of the pack. Even your pet human thinks that way. Why else did he rush out of here so fast?"

"Shut up." Derek slapped a hand down on the kitchen counter next to the microwave, which was taking its sweet time heating up his leftovers. "You don't know what you're talking about?"

"Don't I?" 

"No."

"How does her scent affect you?" 

"Go away. Don't you have a home of your own?"

"I like this one. It smells like pack."

The microwave beeped, and Derek stabbed at the button to open it. He yanked his plate out and brushed past Peter, going over to sit at his desk.

Coming to stand on the other side of the desk, Peter rested his hands on the surface and leaned forward. "Time to make up your mind," he said. The intensity of his voice, of his eyes, sent a shiver through Derek. "What's it going to be? A pack of misfits with a weak and defenseless human for its lead beta? A pack that's destroyed early and young? Or a strong pack, a family pack, able to withstand everything that comes after it, hunter, creature, or human?"

It was too much for Derek. Far too damn much. He stood up, chair overturning and crashing to the floor behind him, and leaned over the desk, getting his face right up in Peters. His eyes flashed red, and his voice deepened. "Like ours did?"

Peter snarled at him, displaying fangs and claws. "No pack can withstand betrayal from within."

Feeling as if he'd been slapped, Derek jerked back. "Out," he said, pointing at the door. "And you better hope to hell I don't come after you."

"But you won't," Peter said. "You've already killed me once; you won't do it again. Not now that you're my alpha."

A dozen responses flickered through Derek's mind, but he didn't say anything. He couldn't deny it, no matter how much he wanted to. Peter hadn't broken any pack laws. As wrong as he was, Peter was only trying to do what he thought was best for the pack. 

"We need to run," Peter said, taking a step back and holding his hands up in a mockery of surrender. "Invite my dearest nephew, Adam's pack if you want. Even bring that damned human of yours if you must. But this pack needs to feel dirt under its paws and the night wind in its faces. This pack needs to feel like wolves."

Derek watched Peter saunter across the room and walk out the door. He couldn't deny that Peter was right, that the pack needed more than just to den together. Taking a deep breath to settle himself and shake off the last of the alpha shift, he reached for his phone and dialed Adam's number.

The woods were dark, and cold, and so stinky with green and growing shit that they made Tommy's nose itch. He wrinkled it, rubbed it with the heel of his hand, and then sighed.

"You didn't have to come," Adam said, pulling Tommy into his side in a half hug.

"Yeah, I know." Tommy slid his hand under Adam's leather jacket and sweater, grinning when Adam shivered. 

"Fuck, that's cold. Why didn't you put gloves on?"

"Not as much fun." Turning into Adam, almost stumbling over a lump of something on the ground, Tommy pushed his other hand up under Adam's clothes from the front and spread it over the warmth of Adam's belly.

"Oh my god, no. Here let me do it." Adam tugged Tommy's hands out and held them between his own, warming them up. When Tommy could feel his fingers again, Adam hugged him, tight and close enough to feel the heat coming off his body. 

"We'll run from here," Derek said. "If you get lost, just follow your nose back to this clearing. Stiles will build a fire as usual. Use the smoke as a beacon."

Tommy glanced over to where Stiles was cleaning debris out of a small stone-lined hole in the ground. Better than nothing, he figured, but what the hell was he doing out here? He never went running with Adam's pack. But then he saw the set expression on Stiles's face as he looked over at where Derek was standing, with Peter next to him and Mary within touching distance.

Then Adam tossed his leather jacket over Tommy's shoulders, and Tommy was distracted by him. By the way his body changed as he shifted and became more than just the man Tommy loved. Within a few seconds, the werewolves were gone, and Tommy and Stiles were alone in the woods at night. 

A shiver trickled ice-cold down Tommy's spine. It's not the full moon, he reminded himself, and Adam would never leave you alone if he didn't think you were safe. He huddled into Adam's jacket, pulling it close around him.

The snap of a twig made him jump, and he bit his lip to hold in the sounds. He looked over at Stiles, who broke another twig and added it to the fire-pit before setting it alight.

Tommy went over to join him on a fallen log next to the pit. "Shove over," he said and held his hands out over the not yet warm enough and way too tiny to be useful fire. 

"Give it a few minutes," Stiles said. "It'll get there."

"Why are we out here again?"

"Because it's good for the pack to have a home base, even in the woods. We didn't used to do this. I'd stay back at the old house or wherever, but it got too dangerous. Everyone knew where to find me. Crazy as it sounds, it's actually safer here."

"Even safer back at the loft, where there are doors and windows and fucking walls. And, let's not forget, an actual fireplace."

Stiles nudged Tommy's shoulder with his own. "You're worse than Lydia."

"Who had the damn good sense to stay _home_."

"It's not that cold." Stiles chuckled. "Just wait until winter. Last year I had to clear snow and ice from the fire-pit and bring a subzero sleeping bag to hang out and wait for them. I still came close to freezing my ass off too."

"Oh fuck no. I'm so not coming out here in the winter. Russia was bad enough, and I got to stay inside there. You can come to LA instead."

They were quiet for a few minutes, the clearing filled with the occasional snap and crackle from the fire and the rustling sounds made by the wind through the branches overhead. Eventually, though, twitchy and bored, Tommy said, "So tell me a horror story."

"What?"

"I keep hearing that you guys fight off all of these crazy-ass creatures. Tell me about one of them. It's perfect for that. All dark and creepy, full of shadows and moonlight."

"True," Stiles said. "And have I got a lot of stories for you."

"Hell yeah." Tommy rubbed his hands together and held them over the fire. "Talk to me, dude."

"Have you ever heard of a kanima?" Stiles's mouth curved into a sly smile. "They're all lizardy and murderously nasty, and they wouldn't have beat him without my help."

Derek ran. Making no attempt to be quiet, he dodged trees, leaped over the other wolves, and sped on ahead. Soil, leaves, and debris caught in his paws and sprayed out behind him. He breathed in the forest and chased a rabbit back into its hole. He howled as he caught the scent of a fox, another predator, and dragged possessive claw marks into the bark of several trees.

Eventually, when he reached a familiar tree, one he remembered from his childhood, he stopped and shifted from his alpha form back to human. He pressed his hand, fingers splayed wide, over what remained of the spiral that Laura had once carved into the bark. The red paint she'd used on it had faded over the years, but her mark was still clear. 

This was his forest, and his pack, no matter that it was supposed to have been Laura's. She'd left, and he'd stayed to care for it. He deserved it. 

He curved his fingers over her mark, almost slashed through it before flattening his palm again. Then, after a moment's thought, he shifted one finger, and carved a second spiral into the bark and then a third, turning Laura's mark into his own, into a near-match for the tattoo on his back.

"Nice."

Derek spun around and found himself facing Adam's smile. 

"Do you know why there are three spirals? Why we use a triskele?"

"Alpha, beta, and omega," Derek said, picking bits of bark out of his claw and flicking them to the ground. "I've been all three."

Adam walked to the tree and touched a finger to the top spiral in Derek's mark. "Alpha," he said. "Power. The head of every pack. Without the alpha, there is no pack and we're all omegas." 

"Obvious," Derek grunted. 

"Perhaps." Adam slid his finger down and to the right. "Some think of this as omega, as the lone wolf," he said, "but my mother told me that it also means pack. The werewolves who depend on the alpha's leadership, who are the alpha's right hand and the source of his or her power. If we respect them, take care of them, protect them, they do the same for us."

"I've never heard that."

"My dad didn't know that either until he met Mom. I think it's unique to her family. I'm surprised it didn't come back to you through your aunt, though, because I know she and my mom talked about it."

"And the last?" Derek asked, changing the subject away from his family.

"Beta. More specifically, using the same interpretation as my mom's family, the pack beta. The alpha's left hand and the holder of his or her heart."

Derek stared at the spiral, his mind spinning as he thought about his pack, about Mary and about Peter's ambitions for her, and finally about Stiles. 

"The heart of the pack," Adam added. "The one who holds the alpha and the pack together." His finger traced an ever-moving, unending back and forth line over the triskele. "If the alpha and the pack are healthy, they choose the pack beta together. The alpha knows his and the pack's needs and desires; the pack knows the alpha's and their own. If the pack is to be strong, its beta needs to be able to hold them all in his or her heart and be willing, sometimes, to put them first."

Stiles was halfway through a story about some guy named Jackson, who used to be a kanima and was now a werewolf in their pack, even if he was going to college on the other side of the country, when a loud noise made him stop in the middle of a word.

Adrenaline already spiking from the story, Tommy exchanged a frightened glance with Stiles and shucked off Adam's jacket, wincing at the loud noise it made when it hit the ground. He pushed a hand into the pocket of his own and grasped the hilt of the silver-bladed knife he carried everywhere he went out wolfing. He trusted Adam to death, but he wasn't stupid. Well, not that damn stupid, even if he'd left his crossbow back at the house.

Rising slowly to his feet, Stiles put a finger over his lips. Before he could do anything else, though, a werewolf crashed through the bushes, blew right past Tommy, and slammed into Stiles. They both went tumbling backwards over the log.

"Fucking hell." Tommy jumped onto the werewolf's back only to be tossed off. He lay back for a second, then shook his head and pushed himself dizzily to his feet. The knife glinted in the moonlight.

The werewolf and Stiles were rolling around the ground. The sleeve of Stiles's heavy, lined plaid jacket was ripped, but Tommy couldn't see any blood. With a muttered curse, he dove back into the fight. The werewolf's claws scraped over the leather of his jacket, and Tommy swiped at the paw with his knife, cutting through fur and skin.

Snapping, snarling noises filled the clearing, and the werewolf backed away enough for Tommy to recognize it... her... Mary.

"You bitch." Panting hard, Stiles came to stand next to Tommy.

"He's mine." Mary's eyes glowed bright blue. "Peter promised me that I'd have an alpha and a pack, and I'm not going to lose them to a human. Derek Hale is mine." 

"No, he's not," Stiles said. "Derek belongs to himself and to his pack. Maybe even to me if he wants me that way."

"Do you really think it works like that?"

"Hell, yes, it does," Tommy said, waving the knife in her face to draw her attention away from Stiles. "The alpha picks the pack beta, not the other way around. I thought you'd know that, being a born wolf and all that."

"Maybe in your pack of misfits." Mary bared her fangs at him. "But in my family, the pack beta is the strongest beta. The one who can fight for the pack and win."

"What makes you think we can't?" 

"Fangs." She slowly ran her tongue over her upper canines. "Claws." She ran a long, sharp thumbnail down her cheek. "And more strength than you'll ever have in your scrawny little human bodies."

"You forgot brains," Stiles said, and threw a flaming stick from the fire at her. 

She ducked, but the flames caught the flying edges of her long hair, setting it alight. She had the flames out in a second, but by then Stiles had pulled out a baggie and was blowing powdered mountain ash at her.

Screaming in pain, batting away the powder only to get it on her hands, Mary howled a challenge. She rose to her full height, claws extended, and dove for Stiles.

Tommy got a better grip on his knife and ran for them.

A rustle from behind them had Derek's senses tingling a warning. Nostrils flaring, he half-turned, prepared to protect his and Laura's mark, just as Peter stepped out from between two trees.

"All that mythology for a pack beta?" Peter snorted. "Aren't you a romantic."

"It's not just romance," Adam said. "Tommy is the heart of my pack."

"A heart and a pack that would be stronger if he were willing to take the bite."

"What makes you think he's not willing?" Adam's question seemed idle, but Derek's hackles rose and his senses went back on the alert.

"He's still human." Peter moved closer, and the shadows cast by the moon fell over his face. "And even if he took the bite, he wouldn't be able to increase the pack's strength with a child of his and the alpha's blood." 

Adam laughed, bright and carefree. "That was never going to happen anyway. I'd never have chosen a woman. My pack knows this and accepts it, and we're stronger for it."

Half-listening to them talk, Derek looked at the triskele again and tried to work out what he was missing. Peter talked in riddles so often, rarely saying what he meant, sometimes not even meaning what he said. But, this, this mess over the pack beta... why was he so insistent that he had to have a child?

Derek spun around, caught Peter by the throat, and slammed him against a tree. "Explain."

"Isn't that what we've been doing?" Peter said, looking far too composed and amused for Derek's comfort.

"No, you've been telling me. You've been arguing in circles around Adam. You haven't explained a fucking thing. Do it."

Adam came to lean against a nearby tree, watching both of them carefully, but didn't say anything or try to interfere. Derek met his gaze, digging his claws into the bark to make sure Peter didn't get away. 

"I'm interested in the answer, too," Adam said. "Why do you want Derek to mate with a born werewolf and have a child so badly?"

Grief and pain flickered dark and black across Peter's face, but he said nothing.

"Tell! Me!" Derek emphasized each word with a slam of Peter's head against the trunk. Something was very very wrong, and he had a sudden desperate need to know what. 

Peter's pain deepened visibly, but he didn't say anything until Derek, battered by an image of Stiles and Tommy as they'd left them — alone — forced the word, "Please," out of his mouth.

"Oh, my alpha, begging looks good on you," Peter said. "How about on your knees? Are you ready to drop down to them just to get an answer from me?"

At that, Adam moved. His fingers halfway to claws, he dug them in Peter's hair, scratching blood from his scalp, and pulled Peter's head back. "Show respect to your alpha," Adam said, "or I'll enforce it."

"What can you possibly do that could hurt me?" Peter closed his eyes, and the tension drained from him so completely that Derek ended up bearing his weight on the arm that was holding his throat. "I already know how it feels to lose everything. To go from married _mated_ father to burned husk, from alpha to mostly dead omega."

Peter's eyes flicked open, and he stared at them venomously. "Do you know how that feels? Do you know how much I want you to know how it feels to lose your heart?"

"Tommy," Adam said, looking at Derek. 

Something caught in Derek's chest, hung in the balance as he instinctively reached out, searching the forest with all of his senses. "Stiles," he said, and his heart started to beat again. 

Derek felt his pack, felt Boyd and Isaac running, Lydia quiet and comfortable, Jackson and Erica far away and safe, even a faint hint of Scott. And then there was Stiles, who should be clear and close to the center, but who felt blurred with danger. 

"What have you done?" Derek snarled at Peter.

Before Peter could respond, a howl ripped through the forest, shattering what little silence existed and sending birds and animals fleeing into the night.

Tommy jumped on Mary's back and stabbed downward. His knife slid in easily, her skin and flesh burning at the touch of silver, not stopping until it jammed into her spine, between her vertebrae. She arched backward, and then slumped sideways.

"Fuck." Tommy swallowed down bile as he hit the ground. He let go of the knife, leaving it where it was, and scrambled out from underneath her. 

She had another knife sticking out from just under her sternum. Her eyes glared blue hate at them.

"Damn," Stiles said, awe in his voice. "That was way too close. I thought I was a goner this time."

Pushing his hair back out of his eyes with a shaking hand, Tommy muttered, "This time? Christ. I'd so fucking much rather watch this shit on TV."

A twitch from Mary drew their attention back to her. 

"We need to tie her up," Stiles said. "I only have one more knife. Damn it. I knew I should have brought my backpack. I have some mountain ash reinforced rope in there. Best thing to keep a werewolf down and out. But of course, I don't have my backpack. Not tonight when I need it. Damn it. What are we going to use?"

Tommy shoved a hand into the front pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a pick and three packages. He slipped the pick into a back pocket and offered the packages to Stiles. "Will this work?" 

"Condoms?" Stiles's voice cracked in the middle of the word. "What... How... No!"

Rolling his eyes, Tommy used his teeth to open one of the packages. "Not condoms, you idiot. Guitar strings."

"Oh."

Mary twitched again and moved a couple of inches. Blood came out from her front as the knife slid out a little.

"Open them. Open them." Stiles flapped his hand at Tommy and grabbed for the open packet. "Tie her up first, talk later."

Which, Tommy thought as he tore into the second package, might have been funny coming from Stiles — under completely different circumstances. But not right now.

Stones dug painfully into Tommy's knees as he crouched at Mary's feet. She moved feebly, trying to separate them, and he brought them together again. A knee on top of her foot held them together, as Tommy pulled the strings out of the packet. They felt slick and twisty in his hands, but he was used to working with them, to getting them to do what he wanted, so he had them tied off around her ankles almost as quickly as he could re-string his guitar.

He glanced up at Stiles, who was still struggling to tie her hands off, trying to avoid being scratched by her. Instead of going to help though, Tommy moved up Mary's legs. He opened the last set of strings and looped them around her legs, just above the knees. When that was done, when he was as sure as he could be that she couldn't kick at them, he crawled up to help Stiles. 

"Got her," Stiles said.

"Awesome." Tommy collapsed to the ground and leaned against Stiles.

"We're good," Stiles said, putting an arm around Tommy's shoulder. He had dirt in his hair, a nasty looking scrape on the side of his face, and one sleeve of his jacket was in shreds. And he looked elated and alive.

Tommy, on the other hand, felt pretty fucking beat to shit. He rested his head on Stiles's shoulder. "Where are the fucking werewolves when we need them?"

As if that was an invitation, Adam and Derek came racing into the clearing with Peter close on their tails and everyone else not too far behind.

"Hey," Tommy said. "You're too late. We got it. Her. Whatever." 

Laughter bubbled out of Tommy, a little hysterical, a little too high-pitched. He waved a hand at Mary. "Strung her right up," he said, and his laughter turned to giggling snorts. 

"Oh baby," Adam said, reaching for Tommy and pulling him to his feet. 

Biting his lip, trying to hold in the noises he was making, Tommy pressed into him, into his warmth and his solidity. He reveled in the way Adam patted at him, the way Adam nuzzled him and made sure he was okay. Then the others joined in. Brian, Terrance, and Ashley, even Neil, touched him, sniffed at him, crowded around him. A glance over at Stiles showed that Boyd and Isaac were doing the same to him. Derek was standing over Mary.

"Stay." 

Derek's barked command made Tommy jump and his teeth clack together.

"I'm not a dog," Peter complained.

"Do as I say," Derek ground out. 

"I would if I were you," Stiles said, sounding far calmer than Tommy could ever imagine. "You really don't want to get him mad at you again. Not after what happened last time."

"Judgment." The way Derek said the word made it more of a statement than a question.

Adam's reaction was to hold Tommy tighter and slide a protective hand up to cradle the back of Tommy's head. Tommy hugged him and then moved so he could see what was happening.

"She attacked our pack beta," Neil said. "Judge her accordingly."

"And ours," Isaac said.

"What?" Stiles sounded shocked.

The look on Derek's face gave Tommy hope that maybe, just maybe, this fucking shit had all been worth it. He bit his lip, tucked his hand in Adam's back pocket, holding on to him, and waited.

Derek's head went up, and his world seemed to narrow to just him and Stiles. He stalked towards Stiles, slowly, like a predator focused on his prey. "Do you want it?" He cupped Stiles's chin in one hand and raised his head. "Tell me?"

"Do I want what?" Stiles asked, his hands coming up to hold onto Derek's arms. "Still not a mindreader, you know. Just—"

Placing a finger over Stiles's mouth, stopping the flow of words, Derek stared directly into Stiles's eyes.

 _Just fucking do it. Fucking ask him. Don't make him guess._ Tommy willed the words at Derek, trying to shove them into his tiny little wolf brain. A frustrated noise slipped out of him, and Adam's grip tightened warningly, pulling Tommy's hair. Tommy dug his teeth harder into his lower lip, forcing himself to stay quiet.

"I'm no good at this," Derek finally said, tracing his finger over Stiles's mouth. "Will you—" He shook his head, "Shit, Stiles, you're the one with all the words." 

"Just ask me."

"Beta," Derek said, sounding gravelly and rough, as if the words were being torn from his soul. "Pack beta. My beta. Heart of the pack."

"Yes." Stiles leaned up and kissed him. It was a gentle press of lips that become more when Derek took over, licked into him, owned him.

Then Derek released Stiles, spun around, and went back to Mary. "Judgment," he said again, "for both of our pack betas." He swiped a clawed hand over her neck, once and then a second time, severing her head from her body. "No resurrection this time," he said, looking intently at Peter.

Tommy shivered and let Adam hold him.

Derek kept an eye on Peter all the way back to the loft. When they arrived, he got out of the car first and went around to the passenger side. Opening the door, he waited for Peter to undo his seatbelt. Then he twisted a hand in Peter's collar, dragged him out of the car, and up to the building.

He pushed Peter into the center of the room. "Stay," he said again, and Peter rolled his eyes.

As soon as everyone else was in the loft, as soon as he had witnesses, he started to circle Peter. "I should kill you."

"You've done it once," Peter said. "I assume it would be easier a second time."

"I'd make sure this time. Silver and wolfsbane. Mountain ash sprinkled over all your body parts."

"Do it then."

Furious, Derek reached for Peter again. "Give me a reason."

"I could give you a thousand, but you already know them all." Peter was pliant, not resisting as Derek pulled him around. 

A clawed hand around Peter's throat, Derek raised his head and looked at the others. "Judgment," he said, because he couldn't do this. No matter that he should, he just couldn't. He needed them, needed Stiles and Adam, needed Isaac and Boyd and even Lydia, although she wasn't there, to tell him that it was the right thing.

"He brought in the wolf who tried to kill my pack beta," Adam said. He was still holding onto Tommy, keeping him close into his side. 

"And ours," Boyd echoed him. 

"No," Stiles broke in. "No killing."

"I agree," Tommy said. "No more killing. Not on my behalf."

Stiles nodded. "Make him pay for this, but not by dying. Make him live with it, knowing that he almost finished the job that Kate Argent started, knowing that he almost destroyed the little family he has left."

Peter hissed, and Derek tightened his grip. 

"I could banish you," Derek said. "Make you an omega. Throw you out into the world, packless and alone, forever waiting for someone to answer your howls."

"No." This time Stiles came and stood in front of him. "He stays in our pack, part of our family. There will be children one day, and Peter needs to be responsible for them."

A choked sob, shocked, harsh and painful, came from Peter. "No," he whispered. "You can't."

That, more than anything else, made up Derek's mind. "Yes," he said. "We can and we will." 

Stiles moved forward, and then Boyd and Isaac, and the pack held Peter while vicious sobs tore through him.

As Stiles and Derek and their pack took care of Peter, all Tommy could do was watch. He felt numb, exhausted, like an intruder. They didn't belong here anymore. The Hale pack didn't need witnesses for this.

He sagged against Adam, letting him take some of his weight. "We need to get outta here," he whispered.

Nodding in agreement, Adam turned Tommy around, tucking him into his side, and slid his hand down to curl around Tommy's hip. Tommy put his own arm around Adam's waist and went back to leaning on him. The pack took up positions around them. Ashley in front and Terrance behind, Brian to Tommy's left and Neil to Adam's right.

At the doorway, Tommy hesitated, resisting Adam's pull to keep on moving towards their cars, and looked back over his shoulder. Derek and his pack had Stiles surrounded. Even Peter, as awkwardly uncomfortable as he seemed, had his hand on Stiles's shoulder. When Tommy was sure that everything really was okay, he gave into the pressure of Adam's hand on his hip and started moving forward again.

No one said anything even as they got into their cars. As if by agreement, the others went with Ashley and left Tommy and Adam alone. Finally, when they were on the road, halfway back to the house they'd rented, Tommy broke the silence. 

"I wanna go home," he said, moving his hand over to rest on Adam's thigh. "Or maybe out on tour. Somewhere that's safer than here. Like where we only have to worry about the usual crazy fans and homophobes and anti-werewolf wingnuts."

"Whatever you want, baby." Adam took one hand off the wheel and rested it on top of Tommy's. "Wherever you want. As long as the pack is with us."

"As long as you're with me," Tommy said, feeling like a complete dork for saying it but the words, the feelings, were all piled up inside him so tightly that he couldn't do anything else.

"Awww."

"Asshole." Tommy grinned into the darkness as Adam squeezed his hand. 

It really was going to be fucking okay.


End file.
